


Strawberry Rose

by sadwolf



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Ballroom Dancing, F/F, Femslash February 2018, Flowers, Prince Derek Hale, Princess Allison Argent, femslashfebruary2018
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-27
Updated: 2018-02-27
Packaged: 2019-03-24 16:47:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,634
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13815333
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sadwolf/pseuds/sadwolf
Summary: “This is my favorite kind of rose,” Lydia explained, “and roses are my favorite kind of flower. They are so strong and resilient, yet beautiful and soft. I would like you to have this,” she felt an uncharacteristic blush rising to her face and began to feel a little foolish, “for I feel it is almost as pretty as you, Princesse Argent.”





	Strawberry Rose

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! So this is a Historical AU and I did some research on nobility titles but they might not be accurate, basically what I did is I used English titles for the Hale Kingdom and French titles for the Argent Kingdom. I also know that in some time periods people wore dark colors only during mourning periods but that is not true in this universe. They also do not wear gloves in this fic but probably would if it was accurate. Also gay relationships are not taboo. Basically it is a fantasy universe in a fantasy time that does not exist lol. Hope you enjoy!

Countess Lydia Martin stood beside a wide marble pillar in the ballroom, her face half-obstructed by her delicate, white lace fan as she surveyed the people gathered with her shrewd gaze. There was a heavy tension in the air, but the guests in attendance wore carefully crafted masks of coquettish smiles and demure glances, as though unaware of the political strife that hung like a thick fog around the hosts they gossiped about. 

This was a Hale Ball. And while that was not unusual in itself, it was a particularly alluring party because the Argents, whom everyone knew to be the long time enemies of the Hales, but whom nobody had actually met yet, had been invited to this ball from their distant kingdom as a gesture of good intent while they had been shunned from all others. It was also rumored that young Prince Derek Hale was seeking to be wed soon, and was using this ball to sort his prospects. 

Everyone who was anyone was at the Hale Ball tonight.

Prince Hale had yet to make his appearance, but Lydia was not concerned about him. While he was handsome, surely, and had a pleasant surliness she knew a lucky somebody would certainly appreciate, she was looking for someone of quite a different type for herself. 

She allowed the pleasant trills of the string quartet playing in the corner of the room to flow over her as she lazily waved the fan at herself, watching as more guests filtered in. She recognized some instantly, and others, she knew not at all. 

Baron Jackson Whittemore arrived, looking haughty and too self-important, dressed fittingly in a peacock green coat as he strutted in. Lydia frowned slightly, knowing that her own dress was a pale seafoam, and wondered, not for the first time, how Baron Whittemore, who seemed quite enamoured with Lydia, always managed to coordinate his attire to match the young Countess’s. 

Lydia did not return his affections. 

Earl Vernon Boyd and his Earless Erica followed shortly after, which was unsurprising as they were often early to Hale Balls, being close companions to Prince Hale as they were. They wore matching hues of indigo, Erica’s gown a fine silk, and the pair of them strolled briskly toward the large staircase at the end of the room where the three Hale siblings would no doubt soon be descending, fashionably late to their own party, as they often were. 

Viscount Isaac Lahey made his appearance next, in cerulean, which complimented his eyes well. He spotted the Earl and Earless Boyd and made his way over to them quickly. Lydia gave the three of them little attention.

The next to enter was announced as Marquis Mieczyslaw Stilinski, whom the Countess had never heard of, and who appeared to be the first of the Argent party to arrive. He was dressed in a deep crimson ensemble of fine velvet that complimented his pale complexion. He had an upturned nose and a splattering of moles across his visage and a somewhat charming restless energy about him, but Lydia found her gaze passing to the next guest quite immediately, eager now to see what other new faces the tentative alliance with the Argents would bring.

It was announced that Comte Scott McCall was the next to arrive, shortly behind the Marquis Stilinski, and it was quite obvious that they were very close friends. Comte McCall had hair that was a bit longer than was fashionable and he wore a coffee colored outfit.

Lydia let out a small sigh of slight irritation. So far, only men and one woman who was already wed had arrived. She was growing tired of watching dull person after dull person enter the ballroom, taking notes on their attire so that she might gossip about who was fashionable and who was not at the next garden party or tea gathering she attended. Indeed, her life had been feeling dull for some time lately, her sharp mind agitated by the idle conversation of her peers, and she longed for a striking companion. Someone strong, impressive, but with a softness as well, and beautiful, of course. Like a rose, blossoming with delicate petals amongst powerful thorns.

Losing herself in her thoughts, the Countess was pulled from her contemplations by the announcement of the final arrivals of the Argent group. A pair of ladies entered the ballroom.

The first was announced as Duchesse Kathryn Argent, who seemed rather older than most in attendance for such a party, but was striking all the same. She had straight blonde hair that framed her face and she wore a dress of deepest violet, and she would have seemed quite beautiful had she not been standing beside the young lady that she entered with.

This beauty was announced as Princesse Allison Argent, and Lydia felt her breath catch and her heart palpitate as her eyes met the dark chocolate gaze that pierced her own from across the room. She was startled to find that she could not meet those eyes for long and swept her vision away, taking in the sight of long brunette curls. Her face had a pretty innocence about it, but a strength as well, and she held herself with a certain confidence and grace that might seem befitting of a deer, perhaps, if a deer could take the breath from the room with a single glance. The young woman was dressed in a pale lavender gown of silk that complimented the ensemble of her companion, and they made a stunning pair.

Lydia knew that it was Allison whom she would be conversing with for much of that night, though she knew many others would seek her attention. The game of the party had begun.

She scanned across the room from behind her fan, watching as other eyes flicked to the four members of the Argent party, as other guests picked their prey for the game of conversation. Lydia was not intimidated. Her gaze drifted back to the Argents, spotting Marquis Stilinski and Comte McCall laughing with each other, ignorant to the eyes that focused on them from all sides, Duchesse Argent peering around the room, obviously an experienced player of the game herself, and the Princesse still with her gaze set on Lydia. 

Lydia slid her fan to the side and let a smile that was almost genuine cross her face, and watched with satisfaction as a pair of dimples and a small grin appeared upon the pretty visage of the young Argent maiden, before Princesse Argent cast her doe eyes downward. Lydia wondered if she was truly shy or if she was playing the game of glances. 

The Countess folded her lace fan and gracefully held it at her side as she took a step forward, intending to mingle among the masses toward the Princesse and engage her in pleasant conversation. Her heart was beating quickly with anticipation in a way it never did at these balls, her mind racing with excitement at the thoughts of making a new acquaintance of such a lovely person. Information on the Argents was scarce. It was rumored that they had been allies with the Hales once long ago, but that some generations before they had had a falling out of sorts, and had been engaged in conflict ever since—never had a true battle broken out, but there had been several rumors of suspected espionage on both sides. It was tense. 

It was no great leap of thought, then, to wonder if the Hales had invited the Argents to the ball in hopes that Prince Hale might select one of the young guests of their party as a prospect for his marriage, if this was indeed a pool for his selection as it was rumored to be. A true alliance between the kingdoms would finally put the tension at ease and could prevent the taking up of arms, which otherwise could be imminent. 

He would have to choose someone other than the Princesse though, for Lydia had already decided to pursue her.

Lydia had only taken a few steps away from the pillar when the quartet paused in the song, then struck up the fanfare that signalled the entrance of the Hale siblings. Everyone stopped their conversation and turned toward the large staircase on one end of the room.

The staircase was grand, made of fine marble like the rest of the room, with golden railings. It was wider near the bottom where the railings flared forward and spiraled off, and it lead to a landing where there were two smaller staircases on either side, leading up to the higher levels of the castle where the Hales resided. It was from these smaller staircases that the Hales began their descent, the Prince from the one on the right by himself, and his two sisters, Princesses Laura and Cora, from the one on the left. They were attired in elegant black clothing, which was typical of the Hales, and matched their dark colored hair. Prince Hale wore his usual expression of disdain, while Princess Laura’s pale eyes twinkled in amusement. Princess Cora simply looked bored. 

When their fine shoes graced the floor of the ballroom, stepping finally off the staircase, the fanfare ended and the quartet started up the revelry of the dance music once more. The guests turned back to one another, commenting on the handsomeness of the royal siblings, while Earl and Earless Boyd approached Prince Hale, and the Princesses began to politely mingle.

Lydia slid her gaze to the Argents once again, and saw that Baron Whittemore was in conversation with Marquis Stilinski and Comte McCall, and must have been making an ass of himself, for the laughter that they had been wearing so easily earlier was stricken off their faces. Instead, they looked to be slightly angry. Duchesse Argent had a hungry, calculating gaze set on Prince Hale, which was not surprising to Lydia in the slightest.

The Princesse Argent was smiling her pretty dimpled smile, currently in conversation with Viscount Lahey, which was somewhat of a surprise. Viscount Lahey always greeted Prince Hale first and foremost at these parties, for it was known that he was a good companion to the Prince, and that the Prince sought the company of his friends more than the company of the masses.

Lydia made her way through the crowd to the other side of the ballroom, reaching the Argent party with swift confidence.

“Viscount Lahey,” she greeted with a sharp smile, “Princesse Argent,” she continued, her smile softening slightly as she looked up into those deep, beautiful eyes again, watching with delight as a soft pink blush graced the other woman’s cheeks. The Princesse was quite a height taller than the Countess, which she did not mind at all, as she found that most people were taller than her. “I trust your travel has treated you well?”

“Countess Martin,” Viscount Lahey responded before Princesse Argent could reply, his voice carrying an edge of displeasure to it, although usually he was more or less indifferent to Lydia, “I see you have grown weary of your astute observing and have decided to join the party.”

Lydia raised her eyebrows, but otherwise showed no offense to Viscount Lahey’s boldness. “I was simply admiring the views of the estate,” she explained with an air of casualness, keeping her eyes locked on Princesse Argent’s gaze, “It is quite pleasurable tonight.” 

Princesse Argent gave a small laugh and brought her hand up to her mouth, finally looking away quickly toward the ground. “It is a nice castle,” she said, “Many beautiful sights indeed.” Her eyes slowly drifted back to look into Lydia’s. Lydia took a deep breath. She extended her free hand.

“Would you care to dance, Princesse Argent?” she asked boldly, her voice soft but sure. She knew what she wanted, and she could sense the desire already blooming between them. It was pointless to wait, especially when so many others would be seeking a conversation. Viscount Lahey looked aghast, but was silent.

The Princesse parted her lips in an expression of slight surprise, but quickly her expression changed to one of quiet amusement and intense intrigue. She glanced for a moment at Duchesse Argent, but the other woman was already gone, making her way across the room toward the Hales. Princesse Argent placed her hand in Lydia’s hand and gave a sure nod. “Yes, I would love to, Countess,” she spoke.

Lydia’s smile widened. Before they turned to the dance floor, she turned toward Baron Whittemore and the two men from the Argent party.

“Baron Whittemore,” she greeted, not giving him a chance to reply when he turned to her, “Hold this for me.” She placed her lace fan in his hand, knowing he would do anything she asked. As she suspected, he furrowed his brow and took the fan, grimacing as he noticed the Princesse’s hand in Lydia’s own. “And stop making a fool of yourself.” With that, she turned briskly toward the dance floor, Princesse Argent trailing behind her. 

The quartet just started up a new song when they stepped onto the dance space, taking position for the waltz. Lydia kept up a confident air, although she felt much less like herself beneath her façade of sureness. She took Princesse Argent’s hands into her own, feeling the soft warmth of them against her skin, and stepped in time with her, their breath mingling as they came close together as the dance continued. Lydia could almost see the sparks flying between them as her heart continued to pound in her chest, her stomach swooping each time the dance steps required them to move their bodies close together, nearly touching in their closeness. She could tell Princesse Argent could feel it too, for she was no longer smiling, but instead looking at Lydia with an intensity in her dark eyes. 

When the song ended, both of them slightly out of breath, Princesse Argent lead Lydia off the dance floor to the edge of the room, beside another pillar. They still held hands.

For several moments, the pair continued to stand in silence. They did not look at each other any longer, but their hands gripped each other, and Lydia could feel Princesse Argent’s pulse through her fingers, delicate but quick, excited as her own. She glanced about the room to distract herself from the intensity of the moment, noticing that Duchesse Argent had cornered Prince Hale and that he looked quite disinterested about it. Instead, his gaze flickered to Marquis Stilinski, who was gesticulating largely while explaining something to Earl and Earless Boyd, both of whom looked quite amused by his antics. 

Lydia was pulled from her thoughts and observations by a featherlight touch on her arm. She turned to Princesse Argent, who gave her a small, shy smile. The other girl seemed to take a deep breath to embolden herself. “Would you care for a stroll in the garden, Countess?” she asked.

Lydia returned her smile with complete sincerity.

“Yes,” she replied.

They were silent once more when they first exited the castle. The summer air was warm and pleasant around them, the crescent moon reflected in the fountained pond in the center of the gardens, around which the flowery plants were carefully landscaped. It was not a particularly large garden, but it was not very small, either. A few other guests walked along the paths as well, enjoying the fresh night atmosphere.

Lydia glanced up at Princesse Argent to find her looking down at her, and she grinned and looked away again, then linked their arms together. She lead the other lady down one of the farther paths, toward the back of the pond, where the roses grew. Lanterns had been lit to guide the way, and Lydia could make out the different colors of the flowers in the dim light. Red, white, pink, and orange, and mixes of them all. 

She leaned toward an orange and pink rose and picked it from the bush, holding it out to the Princesse.

“This is my favorite kind of rose,” Lydia explained, “and roses are my favorite kind of flower. They are so strong and resilient, yet beautiful and soft. I would like you to have this,” she felt an uncharacteristic blush rising to her face and began to feel a little foolish, “for I feel it is almost as pretty as you, Princesse Argent.”

Princesse Argent blushed deeply and brought the rose to her face, inhaling deeply. “Please, Countess. Call me Allison. I would like for us to become...friends,” she said gently.

“Alright, Allison. You may call me Lydia.”

“Lydia…” Allison unlinked their arms and turned toward Lydia so they were facing each other, and her expression turned more serious. “I know we have just met, but I feel something so deep when I look at you. You are a very striking person.”

“You are just as striking,” Lydia replied, reaching out to hold both of Allison’s hands in her own. “Allison,” she continued, her voice a little louder as she built herself up for what she was about to say next, “Would it be alright if I kissed you?” She knew she was being incredibly bold, but she could not stop herself, feeling emboldened by the energy between them, the heat of the dance still sparking in her veins.

Allison’s gorgeous eyes widened before a smile graced her lips. “You continue to surprise me.” Her smile turned slightly sly. She pretended to contemplate the question for a few moments, which seemed to stretch on eternally to Lydia, before she finally replied, “You may kiss me.”

Before Lydia could react, Allison leaned forward and pressed her pink lips against Lydia’s painted red ones. Lydia widened her eyes before sweeping them closed, letting out a soft sound of pleasure and sliding her hands forward from where they gripped Allison’s hands to run along her arms, then up into her brown curls while Allison slipped her own hands around the other girl’s waist, still holding the rose in one hand. Her lips were soft but sure, warm and pleasant, and Lydia moved her own lips against them, and was pleased when Allison enthusiastically parted her own lips in response. 

Lydia took the opportunity to slip her tongue inside, licking into the other girl’s mouth and smiling against her lips when she drew out a soft moan from the brunette. They continued to kiss with intense passion, Allison’s free hand gripping tightly onto her dress, until they both had to pull away to breathe, their breaths coming in and out in quick puffs. 

“That was amazing,” Allison commented, a little breathlessly. 

Lydia could only nod in agreement. She roamed her gaze over the other woman, taking in the sight of her, noting the wildness of her hair from the way Lydia’s hands had been tangling in the curls, and the redness of her lips. Lydia was sure she looked just as debauched. She ran a useless hand through the other girl’s hair, trying to give her a look of propriety once more. If they returned to the party like this, everyone would know what they had done.

Lydia was not sure she even cared. Let the masses gossip. 

Still catching her breath, Lydia slowly slid her hands out from Allison’s hair and smoothed them down her dress instead, while Allison pulled her hands away from Lydia’s waist, clutching the rose, smiling brightly and letting out a small, beautiful laugh. The pair met eyes again, then suddenly looked away, the glance too heated after what they had just done.

“Allison,” Lydia began after a few moments of silence, “I must know, when are you planning to return to your kingdom?”

The brunette gave a knowing smile. “I am hoping to remain in Beacon Hills for at least this season, although I may not return for even some time after that,” she replied.

Lydia returned the other lady’s expression. “Then, dear Princesse, I would like to formally invite you to join me for tea tomorrow afternoon at my estate.”

“That would be lovely,” Allison responded.

Lydia took one of Allison’s hands in her own, rubbing her thumb gently over the back of it and guided her back to the castle. Lydia felt no shame for what she had done, walking with her back straight as Allison held the rose between her fingers, placing the petals to her lips, displaying the romantic gift to the guests of the party as she walked back inside. The pair felt the gazes upon them, some surprised, some jealous, some happy, some indifferent, but they ignored them all.

Duchesse Argent was seething beside one of the pillars, but her anger seemed directed towards something other than Lydia and Allison. Indeed, she was ignoring the pair. Marquis Stilinski was nowhere to be found, and neither was Prince Hale, while Comte McCall was in a dance with Viscount Lahey, the both of them looking very content. 

Lydia brought Allison to the Duchesse’s side and kissed the brunette’s hand, smiling when the action brought a blush to her dimpled cheeks. 

“I await you tomorrow,” she said in a near-whisper. Allison nodded, and their hands lingered in each other’s clutches for a time until Lydia finally slipped away, maneuvering through the dwindling crowd of bodies toward the front entrance of the castle, for the night was getting later and while the dances were still well in motion, some guests were beginning to tire and felt it was time to depart.

Lydia felt, for the first time in quite a long awhile, true anticipation. She entered her gilded carriage and could not stop herself from smiling at the thought of the coming day and what it might bring.


End file.
